The Waiting Game
by J.A. Carlton
Summary: It's Dean's last day but the brothers Winchester have one more hunt to finish before his time runs out. 3rd part of a canon based trilogy, and challenge posed by Nevermore.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – This is the first part of the 3 part final installation of what has turned out to be a canon based 'trilogy'. (is anyone else confused yet? Cause I so very very am,) Anyway, this one was a challenge posed by Nevermore but I took up the gauntlet. If you read, hope you like, if you do, thank her... if you don't, as usual... blame me. **

The Waiting Game – SN fic, pt 1.

by: sifi.

Disclaimer: All I get out of it is pure joy and a deeper love for the boys.

Love – Deepening daily.

--

_...Oh yeah... that would be tonight wouldn't it? God I hope Sam doesn't remember, I'm gonna hafta find a way to ditch him so he doesn't see... no telling what the runt'll do if he actually sees... he'd give in, he'd embrace that bit of demon blood in him then he'd think there's no turning back... he'd become a self fulfilling prophecy... nuh uh, not MY boy... ain't gonna let that happen_, he snapped the newspaper straight then folded it over to focus on the story he was pretending to read, _Man I'd love to get a little action once more before, what is it about death that makes a guy wanna do just about any girl in ten mile radius?... wonder if she'd mind... nah... probably wouldn't feel right anyway, not that it would feel wrong... heh...yeah alright... I guess not then._

"Thanks," he grinned at the sound of his coffee cup refilling.

"Welcome sweetie, can I get either of y'anything else?" Amy asked, her nametag skewed cockeyed on her spotty pink uniform. She wasn't the kind that would readily catch someone's eye, but she had a contagious smile both the boys had noticed, and she radiated an aura of ease and contentment they found they envied.

"No thanks Amy, just the check please," Sam smiled, wishing he had his laptop with them, wishing he could bury his face behind something like Dean was doing, wishing he could turn back the clock or find a way to deny the date on the newspaper.

_Maybe he doesn't realize the date, I just gotta play it cool, _he felt something straining, the walls of his throat as they tried to close, as they reflexively held back yet another round of pleas, and epithets that would only end in more tears for him, and maybe even make his big brothers' last day on earth even worse.

"Find anything?" he asked draining the last of his own coffee.

Dean shook his head, "Nothing looking too strange, at least not around these parts..."

Sam nodded, "... be right back..."

Before the bathroom door finished closing his phone was out of his pocket, his finger scrolling automatically to Laura's number.

'This is Laura, please leave a message,' her voicemail instructed.

"Laura! Where are you?! It's Sam... I need to talk to you! Please! Call me back as soon as you can! There isn't much time! Please... it's about Dean!" the urgency was unmistakable despite his hushed tone. _She's... oh God what if she's gone again? What if something's happened to her? She's GOT to answer! She's GOT to call back! She HAS to come for him! She just HAS to! She's GOT to SAVE HIM!_ He leaned against the door, the hollow pressboard thumping in time with his hammering heart. Sweat wanted to tingle forth as did tears but he wouldn't allow either of them passage. _I'm NOT going to screw up what could be his last day on earth... there's still an option... No! I promised! That was when I thought I could find another way... time is almost up... I PROMISED! Would I really give him up that easily? For a 'promise'? What kind of brother AM I? _he waited, listening for some internal response, he waited some more, _We'll see..._ but in the back of his mind he heard another voice, one he didn't instantly recall ever hearing before despite the twitch that ran just beneath his skin pulling his shoulder blades together. A memory of vague pain slashed across his low back when it said, _'You're weak...'_

"So... there's nothing around... you got any ideas geek boy?" Dean mumbled around the last forkful of crispy hash browned potatoes on his plate once Sam returned.

Sam shook his head leaning back, his belly twitching like a bass drum, "Uh uh..."

"Dude you okay? You look terrible..." Dean grimaced, Sam had left the table looking perfectly fine, "You look like hot wax about to melt..." _Who's gonna take care of him from now on? He won't give up hunting... I gotta call Bobby... he's gonna hafta team up with him, God Sam... I'm sorry man... but I couldn't leave you... it's not enough time! I need more time! _

The youngest Winchester shook his head, "...I dunno... maybe breakfast isn't sitting right..." _'You're weak... you can save him... all for the price of a promise...'_ "Oh man..." he groaned sliding down further into the booth. His body felt as if it were filling with hot black muck that slowed everything, gummed up his 'works' bringing unaccustomed weight to his sense of self.

"Sam?" Dean lurched from his side of the table to his brothers' reflexively checking the clock on the wall, _it's only 11:35, I made the deal about 2:45 in the morning, there's more than fourteen hours left! So help me she better not double cross this Winchester! _his mouth hung open watching Sam's pallor move toward translucence, "God Sam what did you do?" he whispered urgently, heat rising through the layers of his clothes with a cascade of memories that had come so much more frequently now through the last year. When Sam was 13, he'd been sent home from school with a fever and a bellyache, he'd stumbled through the door, his hair hanging in soaking dark ropes. Dean had been out in the rear lot working on the impala, changing the shocks when a chunk of rust flicked into his eye.

"Son of a bitch..." he raced to the sink flushing the dangerous debris as quickly as possible, "Damn man... that hurts..." he'd blinked his vision back, his eyes falling on the dark lump on the couch, "Dad?" he'd called first then realized it had to be Sam. "Sam? What..." his head turned toward the microwave, it was just after 1 p.m. "Sam?" he'd called again, his chest and belly cinched, his heart thudded that much harder, he could feel it against his sternum and vibrating in his throat, "Sammy?" he moved into the living room shoving the coffee table out of the way, his hand turning his little brother from his side onto his back, heat radiating from his body despite the cool clamminess that reminded him of that time he'd tried to eat octopus because some girl he was dating wanted him to.

"What's wrong Sam?" he'd asked grasping the note clutched in his hand.

"Hurts Dean... something's wrong..." he'd groaned, his knees tight to his chest while his body trembled.

"Bellyache and fever?... Son of bitch... Where's it hurt Sam?" he asked picking up the phone from the end table, his fingers dialing 911 as his little brother clutched his lower abdomen.

He could still hear the voice of the operator, clear and strong in his ear, "911 what's the nature of your emergency?"

"I think my brother's having an appendix... attack... or whatever... and my car's not running..." he gave their information quickly. It seemed that seconds stretched into hours while he sat on the floor beside his anguished little brother waiting for the ambulance, but they'd come. The doctors had removed an appendix nearly moments away from rupturing and Sam eventually forgot what that particular pain felt like. _If I hadn't got that flake of rust in my eye his appendix might've burst without us ever knowing and he coulda died from the complications... is anything really just 'chance'?_

"Nothing... I promise... nothing... just... oh God... Sorry man... sorry..." he grunted shaking his head.

"T'sokay... s'okay... you think you need a doctor?" Dean asked as Amy returned with a stack of damp paper towels and furrowed brows.

"Sweetie what's wrong? What's the matter?" she asked reaching past Dean to place the back of her hand against Sam's forehead, "He's cool... too cool..." she said to the elder brother, "You're gonna need to get him to a doctor hon... that ain't right, gotta get some heat in him..." she offered.

"Here that Sammy? You finally get a girl to think you're 'too cool' and it's cause you're sick..." he joked through the tension in his throat, "... okay... doctor it is..."

"No... no hospital, no doctor... please... not today Dean..." his teeth snapped together, barely missing his tongue, _Not today... I just wanna spend the day with you... God what's happening? Please... I don't care if the bitch reneges, just give me our whole last day together PLEASE! _"Motel... Please... just need to rest..." his eyes swam glassy and bloodshot, while not for the first time, the souls of the two last Winchester men seemed to touch in unspoken understanding.

_Guess he remembered after all, son of a bitch, _"Okay... okay c'mon Sam..." _He's supposed to be fine! He's supposed to live his Normal Natural Life! that BITCH! If this is her doing... I am so gonna claw my way out of hell just to drag her mangy ass down! I'll feed her to her own damned hounds and see how she likes it! _Dean slid from the booth pulling a twenty from his wallet while Sam's fingers clawed the table and his forearms strained to pull him back up. "Here y'go Amy... you've been really great these last couple days, thanks for everything," he smiled softly, a sorrowful sincerity shining unguarded from his eyes as he handed the bill to her, "I wish it could be more... but keep the change okay."

Hot pink tinted her cheeks, giving her a shove just over the line from plain to pretty as Sam's hand grasped the back of Dean's jacket while he pushed himself to his feet against the table.

Not quite sure what to say or how to respond to the odd sense of warm genuineness she now felt emanating from this man whose nature was kept sequestered behind an emotional wall the likes of which she'd never before encountered, she turned her eyes to the one thing he seemed to stand vulnerable before, his little brother, "Feel better now Sam... and don't be afraid if y'have t'go to the hospital... it's more of a clinic anyway... but they're nice folks and they'll take good care of ya okay?"

"...anks..." Sam nodded leaning on Dean, his face without a droplet of color save the blue veins that shone scarily through.

She watched the boys go out the door, then dashed after them, helping Dean get the taller man into the passenger seat.

Watching them pull out onto Main, a strange sense of finality danced in the periphery of her awareness.

--

"So help me Sam if you _did_ something..." Dean glanced at his little brother slumped beside him in the impala, his arms waxy and losing opacity fast, were crossed almost as they'd been on that far away 13 year old day.

"I didn't... I swear to God Dean...I made a... ahhh GOD! I made a... Promise!" he gasped rolling forward, his expression agonized, "... just... shutupshutupshutup!..." he ground through clenched teeth.

"Alright y'know what... no... you're goin' to the hospital... this isn't right..." Dean growled pressing down on the accelerator, not even sparing a glance at the motel as it streaked past the window.

"No Dean! No please... it's okay... it's just shit in my head man... that's all..." Sam pleaded, pushing himself up between the dash and the door then grasped Dean's arm, "It's... it'll go away... really... just have to prove I mean business..." his attempt to smile was shaky at best and he knew it. He could see it in Dean's eyes, "Please... it's your last day Dean... don't make me spend it... not _with_ you...please..."

He'd pulled the car to the curb, his eyes scared and hot on Sam's, "What's in your head?" he asked.

Sam shook his head.

"Either you tell me or I'm taking you to the freaking hospital!"

"At the motel... I'll tell you there..." he bargained, _just don't make me go away Dean, please... 'awww whassa madder widdle sammy? scared to be all alone in the big bad world without big brother to hold your widdle hand huh? Paaaathetic... A lifetime of wanting, a lifetime of weakness... the only hint of will to call your own lost in the moment you walked out on them...' Well then it's only fair I let him walk out on me now isn't it you son of a bitch... whatever the hell you are... 'told you before bucko... I'm the only thing that stands between the only person you got in this whole big bad world, and death... I'm the only hope there is for your sorry ass... yeah... why don't you just call me hope?' _he could feel it laughing inside him, this thing he now remembered he'd heard before, this thing that wanted to use him even as he traveled the paths shown him with the Dryad's kiss. _...they saved me before... I didn't need you then and I don't need you now! 'Yes boy... yes y'do... you're gonna watch that bitch's hounds tear your brother apart in front of your face and you're gonna deserve to see it you self serving, soul-less waste of a buck three ninety eight in salts and minerals! and I'm gonna go skinny dipping in the thimble full of tears you might deign to shed, so have a chaw on that why don't cha'..._

"I made a FUCKING PROMISE!" Sam's alto pin balled around the motel room, drawing Dean from the bathroom with a cool rag in his hands and an almost comically stunned expression on his face.

_I didn't even think he KNEW that word... _he thought moving to Sam's side to trade this cloth for the hand towel that was hot and almost dry now behind his neck. He'd no sooner got him from the car than his temperature had skyrocketed, the color started returning to his skin, shielding from Dean's view the sight of his broad, strong blue tinged veins beneath. There'd been a moment when Dean could have sworn he'd been able to see a few of them shudder within their almost transparent housing as blood was pushed through them. He'd also found himself oddly fascinated by the sight in spite of his fear.

"C'mon Sammy... talk to me dude..." he frowned wiping the sweat from his little brothers' brow, his mind once more floating back to yet another memory, another fear that had almost felt like this one, in some ways more, and in some ways less, but back then he'd had countless days, an eternity of moments he knew would be filled with him, and Sam and John. _It was all so simple then..._

"Dean," Sam sighed, his lips curling up in a faint smile, his eyes came open, met Dean's, then closed again, but his breathing did not re-alter. Dean knew he was still conscious, perhaps just tired.

"How're you feeling now?" Dean asked, checking his watch, _12:03... what the hell was that? Food poisoning? Gas? Attempted possession?_

Sam nodded, "Better... was weird... but better..."

"Is the..." _great he's hearing voices... God tell me that demon blood didn't leave something in him... I know Laura got the demon out of him, well the one that came with him from... y'know I still don't get that... unless __**it's part**__ of him... if that's the case... maybe I should mention it in the letter... nah he hasn't found it yet... he woulda said something... I woulda known..._ "...the voice still yammering in there?" he asked.

"It's trying to..." Sam nodded pushing himself up on his elbows, "Water?"

"Yeah sure..." Dean handed a bottle to him waiting patiently while a few more of the last minutes of his life ticked past.

He could feel Sam over his shoulder, almost half his own body swallowed up in a dish towel while his hand slapped his baby brother on the back, his ears pricked toward the noise he wanted to hear. _When the wet warmth made itself known through the back of his shirt he grimaced then held Sam up in front of him, only to find those chubby legs kicking joyfully until they connected with his forehead._

"_Sam!" he could hear himself call with frustration while his baby giggled and squirmed in his hands. "Gross Sammy!... Dad! Sam puked on me!" he'd hollered making sure to lean forward as he pulled his brother into his lap then proceeded to wipe the milky formula goo from around his mouth and off his chin and neck. _

"Dean?" Sam asked waving his hand in front of those jade greens that had never NOT been in his life. _Till today... '...choice...' SHUT IT! _"Dean?!" he chuffed more sternly, but added a snap of the fingers this time, bringing his brother back. "Y'okay Dean?" he asked sitting up, almost all of his color restored and back to normal, in fact, starting to feel as he had before breakfast. _Fine... aside from the fact that my brother's got a date with a hellbitch and her demonic dogs tonight... I feel almost, physically at least, normal again... what the hell?_

"What?" Dean asked noting Sam's blatant confusion.

"I feel better, like almost... perfectly normal now... Dean what the hell is going on?" Sam asked.

The elder brother shook his head, "I don't know... why don't you tell me what started it and we'll see what we can find out from there?"

"Dean no... can't we just leave the wolf out the door..." Sam blanched at his statement.

"Funny...if only we could... c'mon... we've lived our whole lives surrounded by weirdness... what's one more day of it huh?... Long as you keep your promise, I want you to quit this gig Sam..."

"C'mon Dean let's don't do this again..."

"You were holding something back! You're planning something Sam, don't think I don't know you! I know you better than you know yourself! And you're hearing some freaky voice in your head now? What's it telling you to do... huh? What's it saying? Give in to the darkside Sam...? Cause that's bullshit!..." he prowled the length of the room before his little brother, _Why the hell didn't I push for more? Why... damned BITCH! but I couldn't risk Sam, and she totally played it... God I'm gonna take her down! _

"No... strength," Sam shook his head.

"What?" Dean stopped his pacing, to look at his little brother.

"Strength... I don't know what it is... but it's not the first time it's talked to me..."

Dean cocked his head to the side thinking hard for a moment before recalling that time just over a year ago, when Sam, before Jake had killed him, when he'd almost done the deed himself. "Back when we were in the woods, when the Dryad did her thing... after you came through the... thing... and we were coming home... you were delirious... You said something like, 'IT says I'm weak...' Sam is it the same thing?" he asked.

"Are you sure you don't have a photographic memory?" Sam asked clearly impressed. _He's always been great with dates, names, creatures, places... it's gotta be... that's just, too obscure for it to be anything else... what else did I never take the time to appreciate about you Dean? _

Dean shrugged then sat before Sam who in one of these last few hours together told him what he wanted to know, holding nothing back.

--

"You knew?" Sam breathed incredulous.

"Yeeeah..." Dean nodded with a shy half smile, slowly drawing in the line from his rented fishing pole while Sam recast his.

Once whatever it was that plagued Sam had passed, and the telling of his first experience with 'the voice' was done, he'd asked his big brother what he wanted to do. He'd expected carousing, watching a game, even picking up a girl (since Laura wasn't around and hadn't yet returned his call), anything but fishing, well anything but fishing or volunteering to spend his last hours calling BINGO at an old folks' home. Sam was secretly glad fishing had won out.

"For how long?"

Dean shrugged, "I don't know... six maybe nine months now... when the memories started coming back full force... I'm tellin' you dude, I never woulda thought four and a half years could hold so freakin' many memories, or that they could be important..."

"Why didn't you tell me!?" Sam launched himself from the green and gold lawn chair, alternately grinning and shaking his head while he ran his fingers through his hair, "... I've been..."

"It doesn't matter Sam, look I know it's one of those things that tears you apart man, but you gotta understand... aw hell... you always did suck at science..." Dean groaned shaking his head.

"Excuse me... Mister 'isn't boron some kind of laundry detergent?'...?" Sam ribbed good naturedly.

"Funny... I don't mean that kind of stuff Sam, I mean REAL science... listen, your visions, and anything else you can do that you don't know about... it's all just variations on forms of energy, think about electricity right? Good stuff yah? Without it there'd be no TV, radio, cell phones, or tasers that we can jack up to almost get me killed..."

"I was gonna say that..." Sam smiled sitting back down, stretching his feet out in front of himself.

"Point is... it's neutral... it's not good or bad in and of itself, it's all in how you use it... just like any kind of power..."

"So you're saying I should just go ahead and use it?" Sam asked opening another couple beers for them both.

"No doofus... not if you don't want to, what I am saying is I don't think you should be afraid of it... the source of the sword makes no difference to the enemy it kills..." he muttered around the bottle, "not in the real world anyway..."

"Have I ever told you you can be downright scary sometimes Dean?" Sam smiled shaking his head in wonder at all the facets he was still uncovering.

--

"Damnit!" Dean groused wincing as the cardboard carrier slipped from his fingers, the empty bottles jingled then seemed to jump out of their pockets, two of them shattering on the sharp rocks as he thrust the fishing poles and bait bucket across the counter to the shopkeeper.

"I got it..." Sam smiled against a faint frown, _He's getting nervous... Dean doesn't drop beer bottles, even empties..._ "You wanna..." his throat stuck so he tried again keeping his eyes on the ground, seeking brown fragments of glass so he wouldn't have to look up and see his brothers' eyes darkening in fear, "It's uh... getting... are you hungry? You wanna go get something to eat?" _Do you want to go to the crossroad and wait? Do you want me to whip up some gupha dust and stick you in a closet? or a vault? or... someplace we can both fool ourselves into thinking it's safe? Why hasn't Laura called back? What the hell is wrong with her?! Doesn't she know... course she doesn't... not unless he told her..._ he looked up, "Did you tell Laura?" he asked.

"Heeeeell No! What are you nuts?! She'd kill me!..." Dean frowned, _Did I tell her? Is he crazy? Last thing I need is for her to go off half cocked and do something stupid to put Sam or herself in danger... _

"Or go make her own trade..." Sam nodded.

"Tell me you didn't say anything to her..." Dean cocked his head to the side.

"No!... I did call her though... I'd hoped she would have called back by now, or showed up... at least then you could've... you know... spent at least a little time together..." Sam blushed.

"Don't tell her Sam..."

They threw the empties in the dumpster, taking their time in the waning afternoon to return to the impala, maybe in some hope that if they didn't move, or moved slowly, that time itself would do so in some kind of sympathetic response.

"I won't lie to her Dean, but I won't volunteer the information either... she deserves to know the truth though..." he shouldered his big brother who nodded.

"Yeah, just make sure I'm a load of dust in the wind before you tell her anything... can't resurrect ash... hey... you want some help getting the pyre together?" he asked, _Boy that's weird... it's like making my own funeral arrangements... I don't know if I can do this... I don't have any choice, I won't let Sam down... he deserves a chance to live a good life... all this demon darkness crap... it shoulda been on me anyway... not him... I'm the oldest, I'm the first born... it shoulda been me that was... yeah, not Sam... Damn you mom..._

Sam swallowed hard against the mist that clung to his eyes, _I can't look, I can't see him right now... I'll cry damnit... it's not fair! _"No... I think Bobby's still got the scaffolding we used for dad...Dean... I can't do this man... Don't make me do this..." he pleaded keeping his eyes straight ahead and cast downward though he scrubbed the tears from his cheeks with his hand.

"Do you think I _want_ to die Sam? I don't... never have, not in the hospital after the crash, not when I tased myself to my own deathbed, not when that dragon bitch tried to roast me from the inside out, and not now..." he shook his head, his posture and gaze a mirror to his little brothers'.

"How can you... how can you take it so lightly? How can you just..." Sam shook his head, sniffing again.

"I don't want to leave you behind, but we both know, this all started with the rawhead incident... if it hadn't been for my stupidity back then... maybe we... I wouldn't have been able to be led to this..."

"So it's my fault... my fault for finding Roy, for his using Marshall Hall to heal you..." Sam spat, _I can't believe he's gonna lay this at MY feet! He think's its all my fault too! I can't live like this, I can't live with the weight of your death around my neck Dean!_

"No, no Sam, listen to me I've been thinking about this a LOT... I think all that was supposed to happen, really, if I hadn't nearly killed myself that night, there's no telling how many more people Roy's wife would have killed, so I think we were supposed to find out about it, out of need... then do something y'know? it's just that now, God, the Universe, fate, whatever... the scales need to balance... and I'm the one keeping them out of balance..." he tried to explain, _I can't explain this right... it's just another way of saying what's dead should stay dead... I mean sheesh...even on my last day I can't get it right... sorry Sam._

"Oh so now you think it's part of YOUR destiny to be dead but not mine to go darkside?"

"It's not the same thing Sam and you know it!"

Sam sniffed and nodded, he knew, and he knew Dean was right, but it didn't make it any easier. _Damn you Dean! Don't go where I can't follow!_

--

tbc

Please R&R.

Thank You.

sifi


	2. Chapter 2

The Waiting Game – Pt. 2.

by: sifi

--

"I can't believe we're just... standing here... waiting... what if she double crosses us?" Sam asked, his words diluted by his shaky breathing, "What if she..."

Dean leaned deep on his beloved impala's hood, for all the times she'd gotten them in one piece (respectively), to hospitals, back to whatever motel they were staying at, or taken them gamely away from dangers ranging from the demonic to the hustled, or various other ornery types, she once more knew what had to be done. Someone had to hold Dean up, and his faithful black and chrome beauty would once more serve her doomed paladin, holding him tenderly as he stood awaiting his executioner.

"Sam..." his brother's name was barely a whisper in the night, "You gotta go... you gotta leave Sammy..." his head swam, his mind filling with cotton, every bit of focus aimed at getting his baby brother out of here, away from whatever carnage the crossroad demon and her hounds had in store for him.

"I'm not leaving you..." he could barely choke out between his own tremulous exhalations, "... wish you'd let me have one of the shotguns..."

He wasn't joking.

Dean shook his head, his face ghostly pale in the half moon's light. His eyes were wide as saucers and though he had no desire to die, nor did he have any fear of it. _If only I could be sure Sam would be alright... that he won't do anything dumb... that he wouldn't try to make his own deal... there's got to be like an inherent clause or something... otherwise couples could pull switches back and forth forever... boy that'd piss the bitch off..._ _I think I shoulda ordered the spaghetti for dinner... too late now...at least when he gets the note, he'll understand it wasn't his fault. Not any of it. You said I helped YOU be a better person Sam? You got that backwards little brother, the best I've ever been is because of you. _

"Are we supposed to summon her?" Sam asked despite the doubt in his voice. Evan hadn't needed to summon the demon, neither would Dean Winchester.

Dean swallowed, "Maybe I got the time wrong?" he checked his watch.

"Dean?" Sam asked feeling his stomach clench and twist, "Have you _heard_ anything? Have you _heard _the hounds?... at all?"

Dean thought about it but still shook his head, in fact he hadn't. Unlike all the others who did business at the crossroads, Dean hadn't heard so much as a yip, at least not one that hadn't come from the ADHD Yorkie at the other end of the motel.

"Come to think of it... I haven't..."

"Did we..." Sam shrugged, "...get the date wrong?"

He shrugged again when Dean shot him the patented, 'are you kidding?' look he'd perfected over the years. He pushed himself off the Impala and with Sam beside him, the brothers' Winchester moved into the center of the crossroad. Dean jogged to the trunk for his e-tool then returned to Sam's side where he began to dig.

"I shoulda hit it by now..." he huffed after digging down about a foot.

"Is this the right crossroad?" Sam asked, "Or maybe someone else has it..." in reference to the tin box Dean had filled with all the necessary implements to summon the demon last year. _Wonder which ID he used._

"Shouldn't matter..." Dean shook his head pushing the rocks and dirt back into the hole. He frowned, "There's a bar down the road a bit," he suggested.

Sam nodded, "I could use a beer, and maybe someone in there knows something...not that I'm complaining... but I don't like it..." his hackles were up, his skin tingling with alertness, every sense focused to its limit so even the slightest breeze against his forearm sent a quaking shiver through him.

"Me neither...yet. C'mon..." Dean led them into the ramshackle structure that made Lloyds look like a night club and the roadhouse velvet-rope worthy.

--

"What can I get you boys?" the bartender asked.

"Couple beers..." Dean slid a ten across the roughened wood bar.

"You recognize her in here somewhere?" Sam asked quietly at Dean's ear while they both scoped the few other patrons, and dusky shadows.

"Nah, it used a different body last year than the one I trapped when we saved Evan..." Dean muttered.

Two grizzled old men sat at the far end of the bar, closest to the bathrooms, two on-their-way-to grizzled younger men sat at one of two crude, freshman year of woodshop tables in the middle of the room with two smaller versions smacked in each of the far corners, shrouded in shadow. The one in the left hand corner was empty, the one in the right, the one that they weren't sure was there at all for the curtains of shadow around it, might or might not be empty. They'd have to wait until their eyes adjusted to the darkness, and then there was the one where an older woman sat with her eyes closed, swaying to whatever beat lay within her, and a gentle satisfied smile on her lips. She was one of those eighty something women who savored and perhaps even lived for her two to three beers a day, every day, without exception.

_I hope that's not her... I don't feel like choking to death on some old gal's partial... or full on dentures for that matter... _Dean thought with a shudder.

"Here you go boys... that's 3.50..." she smiled, turning to the register to make change.

"Excuse me... we're kind of expecting someone..." Sam said as she turned back.

She leaned forward, chin resting on the back of her hand as her eyes flicked over both of these handsome passers through, "Aren't we all?" she asked not unkindly.

"Heh yeah... see the thing is... we're not exactly sure what she looks like... uh... anymore... it's been a long time since we've seen her..." Dean smiled awkwardly.

"Do you know who's in the corner over there?" Sam asked motioning to the darkest spot in the bar.

"Ain't no one over there boys..." she motioned to the spot with her head. "Just looks like it cause of the coat tree..." she righted herself, looked around and sighed, "Look, s'only a couple a reasons boys like yourselves are gonna come to a place like this... and I can tell ya, I ain't seen hide nor hair of the bitch since someone summoned her about a year ago..."

"Excuse me?" Dean leaned in while Sam swallowed wrong.

"I did however hear a big ass ruckus this morning... a girl screaming... someone was pretty pissed off though, had a shotgun. I heard that sure enough!" she grinned.

The brothers exchanged looks, Dean checked his watch then shook his head, _Maybe I DID get the time wrong... but I should be hearing the hounds... oh God what if she's got something 'special' in store for me?_ he checked a groan, noted a full and heavy sensation in his lower bowels, and after a moment of calming himself finally shrugged, "What happened?" he asked.

"Dunno..." she shrugged, "Don't care... I rolled over back into Ernie's arms and had me a grand old time... nothing like the sound of a fight and firing hardware to get a girl het up..." she smiled, her eyebrows dancing beneath her bangs.

Neither of the Winchesters were sure if she was joking or not, so they both smiled awkwardly and nodded, "Where was this fight?" Dean asked.

"And when?" Sam added.

"Just in the field out back..." she thought for a moment, "...musta been around six ish when I heard the shotgun go off..."

"Six this morning?" Dean asked.

"Mmm hmm," she nodded.

"Are there any hunters in the area that you know of... you know... the kind of hunters that might want to have an up close and personal with... you know..." he asked.

"Not that I'm aware of... nobody 'round here got much ambition to do anything besides drink... 'cept folks like you, they just come for her, or him..." she shook her head.

"Thanks," they said together before draining their beers and heading outside.

"Don't know what we're gonna find in the dark... and how is it that so many people KNOW about these things and there's still..." Sam muttered while they each grabbed a shotgun and flashlight from the trunk.

Dean shook his head not understanding either, "I know, I don't get it either. And you know we gotta look anyway..."

"Why? Can't we just take this one and walk away?" Sam asked. _Why Dean? Why can't you ever just accept a bit of good luck... still..._

"What if I got the time wrong Sam? What if it's still out there?"

"What if it's exorcised?" Sam countered.

"If someone else did send it back to hell, does another one take its place? Is the deal null and void or does the new hire come to collect?"

"Dean think positive man... this could be really good if someone got to it! Did what neither one of us could do..." Sam kept pace with his big brother as they entered the knee high dying grasses in the field behind the bar.

"What if someone just took the box and that's the link to the place? What if it's just going to take time for the bitch to zero in on me again?... We don't know Sam... but yeah... Oh man... what if someone DID what we couldn't and it nullified the contract... it would still leave you safe..."

"And you too..."

"Yeah, and me too...maybe... let's hope..." Dean nodded, the beam of his light finding disruption in the grasses, "Over here..." he led his little brother to the right.

They entered an area of bent and broken grass stalks about twenty yards in diameter, "Look... definitely something at least people sized... the weeds are all broken down..." Dean muttered.

"Dean..." Sam called softly, his light shining forward, resting on brown that might recently have been red. It seemed to call to them, beckon them forward toward a low slung long building hidden in the depths of Easterly shadows.

"Got shells?" Dean asked.

Sam patted his messenger bag, "...and salt, and lighter fluid, and matches..."

"That's my boy..." the elder hunter smiled shaking his head. _God it feels good to be on a hunt! I feel freakin' ALIVE! I know I know... better not get used to it until we know what's what... we can't afford to take it for granted, think everything's alright... find ourselves in a bad sitch only to have me drop dead leaving Sammy without someone at his back... nuh uh... gotta cross those t's and dot those i's... MAN that is a weird expression...but... heh.. anyway... do the job first... figure out what's what... then we'll see what's gonna go on... _

_How lucky would we be to have had some other hunter exorcise the bitch! Dean would HAVE to believe in destiny then! There's NO way it could be a coincidence... that's IF the contract becomes void if the demon is sent back to hell...maybe Bobby would know about that little technicality... do demons have laws? They gotta... laws of the universe, laws of physics... laws of heirarchy... yeah... hell they're probably so like our laws I wouldn't even have to study... is there a deemonic Bar Association? IS that where Lawyers come from?_ a laugh got stuck up his nose where he trapped it until later, if indeed there would be anything worth laughing about. For the time being, he shook the random thoughts from his head, frowning, but safeguarding that ember of hope that struggled to catch fire in his heart as they followed the trail of folded grass and dried blood.

They approached the building low, with their flashlights off, the moonlight now providing all they needed in the open. The trail that led them to the building had thinned to uselessness but upon approach, they realized they no longer needed it. The door lay cleaved in two, the right hand side having fallen into the building, the left tottering on its hinges. It was a sign that didn't bode well for whoever might have been wielding that shotgun. In the darkness their eyes met and they both knew the other was thinking the same thing, _Someone was hurt, whether it was a hunter or a demon host they had no way of knowing. Yet._

_Hmm wonder if Gordy's grown eyes in the back of his head yet...heh... pretty sure even he couldn't split a steel door down the center, son of a bitch! _ Dean thought feeling his heart and hope sink just a bit as he took up station on the right, Sam on the left. It was an understood. He'd go in low, Sam would go in high... they both would go in real quiet-like.

There was only one level to the place, and it seemed as they entered that the bulk of it had been open space, there were a few areas at the back and on the ends of either side that might indicate offices or closed off areas of some sort.

"What the hell is this place?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean shrugged, his first thought leaning toward something along the tool and die trade, or some other machine type shop.

"Dunno..." he shook his head, the movement lost in the churning eddys of dust and debris that thickened the air.

"Light?" Sam asked, his whisper barely audible.

"Not yet..." Dean shook his head.

The brothers took their time, blinking through the dust, letting the shadows try to differentiate shapes, support beams from refracted light, walls from areas of deeper shadow. They stood, their backs to the wall, shoulder to shoulder, their breathing synchronized and hushed, shotguns pulled taut against their bodies, flashlights returned to their pockets, and like the exemplary hunters and soldiers they'd been raised to be, they waited and let the place tell them what it would.

"_Time counts, and keeps counting... and times past count I done the tell... but this ain't one body's story, it's the story of us all... and you got to listen it, and 'member... cause what you hears today you gotta tell the birthed t'morrow..." Man that was freakin' poetry! slang ass poetry but still I get the goosebumps!..._ Dean thought while listening for signs of life and feeling for the sense of death. _I'm pretty sure if the demon won I'd be hearing those hell hounds right about now... but what happened? I need to know... I can't leave anything to chance... _

"D'you see that?" Sam asked softly, his finger pointing to the left, to a small square of dark in the middle of a lesser dark, lightened by the ambience from outside through the windows.

"Are you kidding?" Dean half snarked noting only a blockish darkness, "Yeah... I see it..."

"C'mon..." Sam nodded motioning them forward. Leading the way, taking point, he led his older brother through shadows. His body was tight and hot, and coiled in the dark, ready to spring into action in defense of either himself or his big brother. He had hope now, it was past the time Dean had struck the deal, past the time he'd sealed it with demonic tongue, everything was up for grabs as far as he was concerned. _No hell-spawned bitch is gonna take my brother now! Not without some serious negotiating... I'm thinking... a life for a life... its for his if need be... I'm not above saving a demon to save my brother..._ a thought flitted through his mind with speed very like a hummingbird, _the voice is quiet... I wonder why?_ maybe he'd remember to think about it later.

Half the distance to the chair was behind them. They remained in shadows, their footfalls careful and soft even in their own ears as they approached. In moments they'd come to recognize the contents of the chair. Each man knew they would find a body there, but who's, who the person had been in life, what they'd been at the moment of death, there was no way yet to know. What they were fairly certain of was that whatever had done, what it had done here, was gone.

There were no hackles on end, no warning bells rattling their bellies like pennies in a piggy bank, whatever was in that chair was most likely as dead as this building, or would soon be.

A lance of light shot from Dean's hand to the chair, his hand grabbed Sam by the shirtfront dragging him through the mote filled air to the figure slumped so hard forward it was a wonder the shebang remained upright. Then Dean noted, the chair was bolted down.

"Dean..." Sam said softly, shining his light on the floor beneath the victim while Dean's light shone on the object tethered to it. The divergence of the light beams did not go unnoticed by either brother, the meaning, the symbolism was subconscious and wholly telling. Each examined a separate piece of the puzzle, shedding light on what the other might need to contemplate. This was why the brothers Winchester had survived as long as they had, it was WHY the demon world feared them above all other hunters. They were two sides of the same whole, and neither one of them quite understood what that meant. Yet.

"Oh jeez..." Dean groaned, his attention called to the irregular puddle of dried brown on the floor.

All around were splatter strips, cast-off lines, and drip smears surrounding the area. It was a woman, they both knew. Her long chestnut hair hung like theater curtains awaiting a pull, but the play upon her face was one neither man was certain he wanted to see. Her body was petite but full in all the right places, her bra was lavender lace, and her drawers were rainbow colored boy/cut shorts. Her skin, what was left of it, was ivory but the port wine kiss over her heart had been left alone.

Areas of pale marble that remained told a sketchy tale of what could have happened. Several small tears in her chest, neck and shoulders told them about the shotgun blast, it had been rock salt, not buckshot. Dean could tell the difference having been on the receiving end of such a blast once before.

As Sam leaned in, his light shining on her chest, Dean noticed what had caught his little brothers' keen eye.

"Dean... isn't that...?" he started, pointing to the jagged edges of flesh that appeared to have been torn.

"That's the same binding link Meg used on you," he nodded.

"She was the host..." Sam breathed.

"Looks like..." he nodded, his light flicking to the right, his eye having caught the unnatural angle of the woman's forearm, bent in half over the arm of the chair, splinters of bone barely rupturing the surface of the skin, "Oh man..."

"Do you think whoever did this knew..." Sam started to ask.

"They used a freaking binding link to keep the demon INSIDE her! Whoever it was sure as hell knew what they were doing!" Dean barked.

"Right..." Sam nodded.

"This isn't hunting Sam... this is someone with a vendetta!... someone who knew enough to lock the demon inside and didn't give a damn about the woman it was using..." Dean hissed.

"But why?" Sam asked shaking his head, then remembered the door split in two, "Dean... do you think it coulda been one of... the 'other' one's... demons?"

"I thought its demons were Igigi?" Dean shook his head.

Sam frowned deeply, "I don't think so..."

"You gotta be kidding me... you mean there's MORE? Different!? Something ELSE that's gonna be coming?" Dean groaned, _Well isn't this just... ducky... he's gotta be wrong... we don't even know how to kill Igigi yet and there's gonna be a cavalry coming? DAMNIT!_

Sam shrugged, "Well, I don't KNOW... but would YOU send your heavy artillery before your advance troops?"

Dean stopped, his head cocked to the side and his eyebrow spocked high in thought, "It'd definitely be a surprise move..." he shook his head, "Later Sam... if there IS a later for me anyway, if not you better take this to Bobby and STICK to him like glue until you know you can get out safely!"

Sam felt his hand twitch toward his pocket but stayed the impulse and simply nodded meeting Dean's eyes. Dean raised his hand, sliding his fingers into her dirt and sweat streaked hair, he cupped his palm, pressing up against her forehead, needing to see her face.

"Cut her free Sam..." he croaked lowering his beam from her face so he could stand to see the welts, bruises, cuts and broken facial bones he knew had come before her body had the sense to die.

Her eyes were still open angled downward to the floor but only one was visible. He wasn't sure if the other was gone, or just buried under tortured flesh, _light brown... kind of an amber color_, he noted. With the movement of her head a rubber band of blood slid from her mouth landing in the middle of a part of her thigh that remained alabaster around the black football sized bruises then broke off to slide toward her body's midline.

"Cut her free Sam. What the hell happened here..." he breathed in horrified wonder.

Sam finished cutting her bindings then slid his arms between hers and her body. With a nod, he and Dean lifted at the same time. Even in the darkness they knew something was wrong other than the wounds they'd already noted. As Sam raised her up, where he should have met enough resistance, through simple bony connections, she nearly slid through his arms. He clutched haphazardly wrapping his arms tightly around her chest, pulling her to himself to avoid dropping her, and felt her ribcage nearly flatten against him. At the floor Dean grimaced noting bends beneath the bruises on her thighs as his grip faltered too. Finally they were able to lay her down on the dirty floor. They realized quickly that though her body had been stripped to the bone of skin, connective tissue, and muscle in places, making it look as if something befitting Dinosaur week on Discovery Channel had got hold of her and raked her without thought, it was the ragdoll laxity of her limbs, the jutting pieces of broken bone ends moving beneath her skin, that left the boys wondering if the same monstrosity might have taken a couple chomps before spitting her back out.

--

"Dean?" Sam breathed after several long moments.

His big brother sat on his heels, his palms pressed to his eyes, his breath hitching while he looked at the mutilated body before him, slowly he drew her eyelids down, hoping that whatever she'd been in life, however her life had ended that she was now at peace.

"Dean... come on... please... we need to ... we need to leave..." Sam reminded him softly, _Please Dean... don't cry man... please... I can't hold it back when you cry... you're part of me Dean! stop it please! STOP IT! I can't take your pain!!_

'_Then give it to me... I can take it... I relish it... I devour it... you never have to know pain again... imagine what bliss it would be to live without ever knowing hurt... emotional, physical, intellectual... just imagine what you could accomplish!' _ he felt his throat spasm closed once again, choking on his tears.

_I could... I could be free... I could feel... I could feel... _he stopped and scratched his head, _what would I feel? 'nothing, never! there would be no feeling that could bring you despair, pain, fear, hatred, you could be clear, you could be emotionally pristine' _ _No! 'you don't know what you're saying...' I KNOW I'm saying NO! however many times it takes to get the point across... NO!_ he barked within again and felt the 'voice' retreat once more, though he was beginning to understand now that it would never go away, it could never be silenced entirely, but with each grasp, each immersion into his own certainty it lost hold, and Sam Winchester began to believe that he could one day rule his own destiny.

"What the hell happened here Sam?" Dean asked shining his beam around the place, moving through the shadows to a support beam that sported a rust brown smear, "Was it a hunter? Was it someone with an axe to grind specifically against this demon? Or was it someTHING else?" he asked meeting Sam's eyes, his questions mirrored in them.

"I don't know..."

"And you don't think it was Igigi?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head, "I don't think so... I think they just... eat the demons themselves, I mean some of them feed on the hosts too... but I've never seen even the gray ones actually TOUCH let alone crush a person..."

"You think a hunter might've done it?" Dean asked, his stomach squeezing sickeningly at the thought of a human being who KNEW the woman was only a host, going to such horrible lengths to trap and without a doubt, torture the demon inside before doing God only knew what to it. "So do you think the demon is dead?" he asked now able to see strips of flesh littering the floor around them.

"Dead or back in hell, I don't know, either way let's hope it buys you some time," Sam shrugged his shaft of light caught against something on the floor, "Dean..." he shouldered his big brother indicating a line of white that glittered faintly.

"Salt..." Dean shook his head a moment later.

"I don't believe this..." Sam called from about ten feet away, "It's a freakin' devil's trap Dean..."

"Big ass devil's trap!" he muttered.

Sam smirked and cocked his head to the side, "We've seen bigger..."

"Yeah, but still... I'm leaning toward it having been a hunter that did this..." Dean looked at Sam, joining him as he stared down at a symbol drawn between points of the pentagram. "What?" he asked.

"I've seen this before..." Sam frowned.

"Huh... it does look familiar..." Dean pulled his phone.

"Ingwaz... Dean it's the Egg, said to ward off the evil eye," Sam started.

"And astral attack..." the elder brother nodded, "Right...Go that way, see if there's more," he angled his light to get the best possible shot then followed Sam around the trap taking pictures at each junction.

--

Eyes watched as they moved forward from the shadows, toward the building, into the building, through the layered darkness within to the host the crossroad demon had chosen. They cut free the body of the human it had inhabited, in the darkness they could not see the strips of flesh taken from the female, thrown hither and yon throughout the old machine shop, they knew the bones inside the suit were broken, some crushed. It didn't matter, none of it mattered.

There was still furious affront that the lowest had dared to try to take what was not in the offing, _MINE, forever!..._ the thoughts were vicious and vehement, laced with blood stained venom.

There was vindication too though, as beneath the fingernails skin cells rolled, buckled and were torn from their moorings, fluid filled the spaces between, plasma and sticky cells that weighed the fingers down, made them feel like overstuffed sausages, and with layers of meat and fat finding spaces between the digits, between the nails and the fingertips, between the scant folds of skin, vengeance continued to burn.

--

tbc.

Please R&R.

Thanks.

sifi


	3. Chapter 3

The Waiting Game – pt 3.

by: sifi

--

Movement in the grasses drew Sam's attention, setting his heart clip-clopping in his chest while his lungs drew breath just a little deeper. _I don't hear any cars... at least none close by..._ then he spotted it, a vague movement darker than the night as a large-ish black shape took wing into the velvet blue night sky. _It's a little late for birds isn't it?_ he wondered against a small twitch in his low belly. Some things Dean might have forgotten, but Sam hadn't. _The battle maidens' harbingers are ravens... alright let's not jump to conclusions now... there ARE night birds... coulda been an owl... they're nocturnal... yeah, it's probably an owl, caught itself a field mouse or something... yeah, at least that makes sense..._

"Let's go..." Dean startled him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah..." Sam nodded walking side by side with his big brother back through the field, back toward the impala, "You hearing any hounds or anything yet?" he asked anxiously.

"Nuh uh..."

"I want to look up those symbols before you get your hopes up, but if some of them are what I think they are, you might just be off the hook..."

"Ya think?" he asked letting his hope shine through.

"I think... I recognized a couple of 'em... The Lucky Hand, Ingwaz – the egg, The Dog... Dean if they all represent what I think they do, then I'm thinking..."

"It might not be an accident that someone exorcised the demon on this night," Dean stopped in his tracks, his expression troubled in the darkness, "I wonder how many other deals she made that night," he sighed.

"You can't blame yourself if anyone else took her up on any offers... like you said before, the ones who make the deals, it's not like they go into it with their eyes closed, but sometimes there isn't any other visible choice."

"Seasoning up the crow for me so it goes down better?" Dean smirked.

Sam shrugged, "Mmm maybe,"

Dean shook his head but smiled, then shouldered his baby brother forward, "Anyway... I recognized those three too, and I think you're right about what they represent... but the sixty four thousand dollar question is who dunnit, those symbols are _very_ specific," he asked only to find himself on the receiving end of an 'are you kidding?' look from his little brother.

"Yeah...okay we know ONE person who'd have a _reason _to do it, but how would she know? You didn't tell her, I didn't tell her... so it couldn't have been her...besides, what was done to that girl?... No... she couldn't...well she wouldn't..."

Another look, this one a little different.

He opened the gun compartment and placed his shotgun into its foam carved slot as did Sam.

"You guys _share_ a patron... she could have found out, if _he _did."

"Yeah but she wouldn't do that to a host," Dean shook his head.

"Can you be so sure Dean? I mean really, the only time I've ever seen her fight anything was when I drew that bit of demonic telepath out of your head, and I gotta say, when your girl is pissed, she's scary..."

"Uh, _DEMONIC_ telepath... and hey you jacked Jake with half a clip of consecrated rounds... so who _can't_ be scary?" Dean countered, "...and if you recall correctly, I dead-eyed a round right thought YED's boys' skull myself..."

"_He _was possessed. And with Jake, it was justified! He gave in! Human eyes don't flash like that! AND he killed me, AND created the situation we're in right now!... ish... well you know what I mean..." Sam stumbled over himself.

"Yeah it was justified, and yeah I know what you mean... So do I ask her or not?"

"If it wasn't her, expect some serious pissd'osity when she finds out what you did," Sam warned smiling wryly looking at Dean over the roof of the car.

"Like I shouldn't expect that if it WAS her?" he tossed the keys into the air, letting Sam grab them.

"Good point..." Sam muttered, noting Dean's gaze over his shoulder, "What?"

"I don't know Sam... that woman in there... she was... _shattered _not just beat to hell, not just killed, whatever got to her, whether it was the demon working from the inside, or if it _was_ a hunter, or if it was... jeez man, y'know I'd _rather_ it be a hunter that did that, sure beats the prospect of some new level of the marauders' minions..."

"Me too, but on different note then, do you know ANY hunter who could split a steel door like that?" Sam asked, "Even Laura?"

"No..." Dean shook his head, "I mean even she's just a girl, close calls aside n'all, she's just... well, she's like us... she knows more than most folks so she can get out of more scrapes than most y'know?"

Sam ducked into the car snickering, "Yeah well it doesn't hurt to have a direct line to a personal deity either... you know, for those really hard-to-get-through moments..."

Dean felt his jaw drop, then his lips curled up in a grin as he batted his little brother's shoulder, "Ass hat..." he grunted sliding down into the seat, "Would you look at what I'm reduced to here? A passenger in my own freakin' car!"

Sam drove them from the bar back to the motel, one major car wreck was enough for ANY lifetime, and neither of them wanted to take the chance on Dean becoming incapacitated behind the wheel just in case they were wrong and the demon still came to collect. After all, getting Sam killed would defeat the purpose of the whole deal. And of course Sam would have to get the impala rebuilt again, Dean's sole sticking point last time was that he hadn't been able to do it himself even though Tiny had done a beautiful job.

--

"Look at these Dean... they're ALL preventatives against astral attack, and look..." he handed the book to his big brother.

"The Dog... yeah... in Native American lore stands guard and prevents spirits from attacking the living...Damnit Sammy... I don't get this... where'd the tin go? it should've been there! and I should've been hearing the damned hounds!... The sun is almost up and I'm still here!" he frowned pacing the room. "Is the other one dead? Is a new one gonna come after me? and if so, when? or is the deal null? This is gonna drive me nuts!"

"I can't believe you're complaining Dean... I mean this is... without a doubt, the biggest stroke of luck OUR family has EVER had! And you're bitching about it?! I don't get you man... are you sure you don't WANT to die cause it's starting to sound like you're disappointed that you're not pyre-wood yet," Sam challenged.

"Don't be ridiculous Sam of course I don't WANT to die... I told you that! That's funny though... pyre-wood...you got a sick sense of humor."

"Come by it naturally..." he shrugged with a wry smile, "...you don't wanna die _but_?"

"BUT..." Dean stopped his pacing and faced his little brother, "... it's hard to believe I could be that lucky... I mean don't get me wrong, I know I'm a lucky son of a gun, but no one's THAT lucky..." he tried to explain then watched as one side of his little brother's mouth tilted upward in a strange half smile, "What?"

"Do you think it's luck or are you afraid there's more to it?" he asked.

"What're you talking about?" Dean frowned.

"I think maybe you don't want to believe that you're worth saving too, cause if you thought that, then maybe you might have to face the fact that sometimes you're afraid too... or that maybe how things turned out for us was 'meant to be' after all?"

"Aww that's bull..."

"... No it's not bull... Come on Dean we're not kids anymore..." Sam reached into his jacket, removing a slender white envelope from the inside pocket. "I found it a couple days ago... I... uh... I didn't know what to say... still don't..." he chuckled through the mist in his eyes and shrugged.

A gentle smile spread warmth through Dean's face as he hung his head briefly, his hand reaching into his inside pocket and holding up his own letter. He'd found it in the glove compartment the day before.

"Me either..."

"Nah, we're not related..." Sam grunted.

"Look Sam there's a lot of stuff in there I know I should have told you before, but you gotta know..." his breath caught in his throat as in the distance a baleful cry came to his ears.

_Wow... it really does 'drain' out of a person..._ Sam thought. Each man watched the color wash out of the others face. Sam bolted from the chair, rising to stand beside his brother whose eyes shot to the door.

--

The demon had been summoned bright and early, insult before the injury that was to come. Demons were bound by their own rules after all. Whatever it might have expected, a flood of holy water wasn't it. It screamed through its host, driven back into the grasses, blinded and stinging with the force of the jet coming from the child's toy being wielded.

The host was herded, backing through the weeds, tripping, stumbling, the attacker was silent, the attack was not.

Out of sight of the road, the bar, and the idea of any passers by, a shotgun was cocked and fired. The host's body screamed yet again when the salt pierced the skin almost point blank then abruptly fell silent. Heavy silver tape fell over the hosts' mouth and nose, her eyes bulged in fear. Her body shivered and bucked as a fingernail wound its way into a tiny flap of skin made by the rock salt, and began to tear out of it the symbol that would keep the demon prisoner. By the time the link was made and the tape removed the host herself was unconscious and rather purple looking, but the lungs functioned and color returned to normal.

Red eyes looked at what it had wrought, what it brought down upon itself, they pleaded first then returned once more to threats and promises of untold cruelty, to any and all with whom deals had been struck. If there had been an eye blink's worth of pity or doubt over what was about to transpire; no, even then vengeance could not stop, nor be stopped.

A little before mid day, after more than five hours in those cruel hands, the demon, sensing its end tried to focus the last of its will. This thing that had summoned it, to its ultimate frustration, could not be read. The demon had no idea which of the hundreds of deals still pending had brought this fate down on it. It did however know one thing, it had come from hell, it was going to be sent back there, but it would not go quietly. Through the pain, with its hounds nearby, it worked to focus its will one more time, to rescind every one of the deals it had made in the last ten years, and though the demon knew it would eventually claw its way out of hell to wreak its brand of havoc once again, it had no way of knowing that all the players were where they were wanted. It was 11:35 a.m.

For the second time since its capture of the crossroad demon, vengeance spoke, "Tell me."

Outside the protective barrier the hounds picked up the pace, the scent of rot and decay permeating the air as they clawed, chuffed, snarled and howled retribution.

The demon screamed, taken by surprise as slow agonizing pressure built on the hosts' legs, the strongest bones in the human body bending over the edge of the chair seat, _No human can do that! Not with bare hands..._ it thought wondering if maybe returning to hell might not be so bad. It wailed as the bones bent like green wood beneath the skin, splintering in strips and spears that jutted upward, piercing muscle, vein and artery, unleashing a flood of vivid black to coagulate in the surface tissues. Sweat and blood had long since soaked the hosts' hair leaving it hanging in damp dark draperies, and though demons could animate near corpses, they no more enjoyed their own pain than the average human did. The chalk white, waxy sheened skin of this host coupled with the erratic tremors and gasping breaths from within its carefully shattered rib cage filled the demon with fear. To be trapped in a corpse until it rotted enough for the demon to escape would be worse than returning to hell only to claw its way back out. At least in hell, it would not be alone.

"Yes! Yes!" the demon screamed, "Deals are specific to the demons who make them! No other demon can collect!"

Dark gray ebbed and flowed inside the structure even though watch hands showed that it was now high noon.

"You step over that line my hounds will tear you to pieces!" the demon gasped delighted that there would be some level of payback.

For the third time, its killer spoke, "I think not," then swept a break in the salt line, stepping outside as momentum carried the hounds into the circle, to their master, followed by a swirling column of dark gray mottled faces that began to feed as the inner pentagon was sealed once again with just a touch more salt from a pouch hidden in the folds of the jacket.

The demon screamed, the hounds bayed, and the gray faces fed with piggish glee.

"No! Help me! You can't do this!" the demon cried, its dogs yipping in agony. At 12:03 p.m. the last thing it would ever see besides those feeding faces was the receding figure of vengeance personified.

--

Both men startled at the sudden pounding against the motel room door.

"Demons don't knock..."

"Hey whoa... easy there fellas..." laughed a familiar voice on the other side of the door, "Sorry no donuts for doggies... this is people food..." she laughed as Dean and Sam lurched together, slowly opening the door in case she was leaning against it.

"Laura?"

"Laura!" they breathed together watching her free hand frantically ruffing either of the two mastiff sized fuzzy mutts behind the ears while trying to evade their slurping tongues.

"Save the breakfast!" she called handing the carrier with the donuts and coffee to whichever of them would grab it first.

"I'm really sorry miss... they're not usually like this... honest they're good dogs..." a wiry man in jeans and a worn Van Halen t-shirt snapped leashes on their collars and pulled them away.

"Yes they are..." she laughed, "Good puppies... aren't you?" she ruffed them each again as their master regained control and dragged them away apologizing profusely.

She shook her head and entered the room, "So what's up? I got here as quickly as I could, what's wrong?" she looked from Sam to Dean, noting each mans' respective lack of color and frowned.

Dean shook his head, his eyes misty once more, "It doesn't matter... it's not important..." he stepped forward, grasped her tightly trembling, never wanting to let go. His lips captured hers and held them tender prisoner, but it couldn't be long enough.

"Dean..." Sam's soft voice came moments later, "... it does matter, we still need to know... unless you wanna go through that every time we hear..."

"Need to know what?" she leaned back.

--

"Laura..." Dean said softly, his hand resting on her shoulder as she sat at the table fingering her now cold cup of coffee, "...I couldn't let him die, I couldn't let him be dead... it wasn't supposed to be him, it was _never_ supposed to be Sammy..." he choked.

She nodded looking from one man to the other. Her reaction nothing at all like what they'd expected.

"... but we don't have any way of knowing what happened to the demon, or whether or not another one's going to come and try to collect..." Sam sighed.

Laura nodded, "Well... about how much time he has left... none of us knows how long we have anyway so that's kinda back to square one isn't it?" she smiled, "... but I'd bet you don't have to worry about any other demons trying to collect, I mean, deals are specific to the demons who make them, no other demon _can_ collect."

"You're sure about that?" Dean asked.

"... pretty sure," she nodded.

"Pretty sure?" Sam asked.

"Really sure," she nodded.

"Well that's a relief... I just wonder how long it'll take for her to claw her way out of hell..." Dean sighed.

"And I'm still curious about the tin... where'd it go?" Sam scratched his head.

Laura frowned, "Hmm, if you don't mind my saying... it doesn't sound like you have to worry about it coming back, at least not any time soon..." she shook her head.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Well, it sounds like whoever got their hands on the host knew what they were doing. I mean it was trapped inside the girl right? and she was dead right? Demons can't reanimate the dead for their own purposes... so..." she shrugged looking from one brother to the next.

"Well now wait a minute... we saw Meg get tossed out a 7 story window, and she didn't bitch about so much as a headache, but as soon as we exorcised the demon, her body died..." Sam argued, not noticing his big brother's cringe at the memory.

Laura rolled her head on her shoulders, her eyes flicking from Sam to Dean, then back to Sam before she shrugged, "Maybe there was a spark of life still in the body so that demon was able to keep it going...I don't know."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, acknowledging both the validity of her theory, and consequently what it meant for the host they'd come across.

"Oh man..." Dean groaned, _that means that girl was killed just to trap the demon inside her indefinitely... _he glanced at his girl, _COULD you do something like that?_

"Sweetie there's no way it could possibly be your fault, I hate to break it to you but there are other people who know about these things... some of 'em are even hunters, probably more of them like Gordon than like you boys. What happened... what was done to that girl is NOT your fault, you've got nothing to feel guilty about," she rubbed his forearm gently.

Slowly, after a moment of thought he nodded, "Yeah, you're right. So if it's trapped inside a corpse odds are it's not gonna get out of there any time soon," Dean let himself grin looking from his girl to his brother, despite his sorrow for the demon's host, for the first time in days he felt able to take a full breath. "Maybe I _am _that lucky after all..."

--

Reaching into the trunk for her weekend bag she pushed aside the cardboard box the strap had wound around. Exhaustion from the last 72 hours of research, tracking, and obtaining the information she needed was taking its toll. She jerked the bag free, tipping the box and its contents all through her trunk.

"Son of a bitch..." she groaned watching a handful of coins, and the brittle skull of a black cat roll out. With a furtive glance she swept them back into the tin, taking a moment to smile at the photo on the Wildlife Services badge before snapping the lid tightly closed and stuffing it back into the box until its contents could be properly dispersed.

Dropping her bag on the ground she slammed the trunk and breathed hard, her arms crossed over her chest while tears rose steadily to her eyes.

At the door to their room he watched her back and shoulders bob and hitch unsure if he should approach or not. _I have to make it right... if I can..._

He laid his hands lightly on her shoulders then swallowed hard with relief as she leaned back against him. His lips fell to the top of her head, "I should have told you... I'm sorry."

"Dean, I would _never_ expect you to let any harm come to Sam...and I would never believe it was you if you didn't do EVERYTHING possible to save him, from anything..."

"So you understand?"

"Of course I understand..." she sniffed, "...but you understand this... as he is yours, you both are mine," she turned, her face angled perfectly toward his, their eyes met and held and Dean wondered at the cause of the shiver that shook him.

Her hand rose like lightning, leaving a stinging red palm print on his cheek that would have him thinking razor burn was a blessing for quite a while to come.

"I deserved that," he nodded rubbing the sting away, "... but I'd do it again... for Sam, in a heartbeat... I couldn't let him die... not like that... not when I could do something about it," he explained.

Her gaze softened beneath the tears as she nodded, her eyes touching him deep inside with the heart of her soul, "I know," she smiled, _what won't we do for the ones we love?_

Her breath shuddered as her palms came to rest on his chest then slid down to his hips. He drew her into himself, trembling with the thought of all he'd come so close to leaving behind, his brother, so much his own child, a woman who gave him everything she had without his needing to ask, and a future that held untold promise.

Wrapping himself around her, he was glad to be back.

--

end.

please R&R.

Thanks.

sifi.


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